


Alt:Lock (Mature)

by Vengefulnoob



Category: gen:LOCK (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Burns, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Knives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 12:51:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18499336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vengefulnoob/pseuds/Vengefulnoob
Summary: What if Roberta Chase was able to pick up Julian's call during the battle of New York?One small change turns the world upside-down in this AU, with Miranda left fighting for her life in New York, and Julian back at the Anvil.A lot of WorthChasing shipping. Finished, Multichapter, Eventual Smut.CW: Violence, burns, knives, guns, sex.





	1. Let's Have Some Fun

"Did I pass?" She asked, leaning in with a smile, her scarlet bangs parting slightly as she leaned forward in that way that made him want to cup her cheek in his hands for hours.  
"Flying colors." Chase replied, echoing her smile as he looked up at her. He was glad to know that his mom and Dri approved of Miranda, and had taken to her as if she were family already.  
"So, what do I win?" She asked, with a cheeky smile.  
"Me." It was an innocent reply, but there was a certain cheek of his own that he added. He had an idea of just where they could go after leaving the canteen.  
"Yes!" She clenched her fist in victory.

  
In truth, she'd already won him weeks ago, when after one of their usual post-exercise chats, they had awkwardly leaned in close to one another, eyes locked in a suspended trance. They had remained there, frozen, unsure of what would come next, before he mustered the nerve to kiss her, and found her replying as earnestly as he. Everything since then had mostly been autopilot, and he'd enjoyed every moment of it, even if that meant Ma sharing embarrassing stories from his childhood.  
Which reminded him…

  
"So, you had fun?" He stood up.  
"Mmmhm." She was earnest, and he was glad.  
"Good, so for the next one of these, I look forward to your mom telling me all of  **your**  embarrassing stories." He walked off, smiling as she took a moment to process what he'd said before protesting.  
"Hey! Hey, hey, hey! That's not how this works!"  
He had a feeling he'd pay for that little jab later.

* * *

 

As she walked out of the canteen, she found Julian with his friends, talking about gaming as usual, while Jodie began to ask something.  
"Hey, if Miranda dumped you, then…"  
"Then what?" She asked, making her presence known, and watching Jodie struggle like a deer caught in headlights with some small amusement.  
"Then, uhh… That would be tragic, and… we should mourn the death of your relationship… from a respectable distance." He seemed reasonably happy to put that forward as a statement, though she could tell what he'd really been meaning to ask.  
"Smart boy. What's this about a game?"  
"Siege?" Migas whined, as if it were painfully obvious.  
"Sorry fellas, my Queen summons me."  
She could get used to being called that, she thought, even as Migas frowned and asked again hopefully, "So… no siege?" before taking Julian's head shake as his final word on the matter and heading off with Jodie and Leon.

  
"See that? Said no to gaming with the boys and everything."  
She scoffed, "What, you want a cookie?" But despite playing it cool, she knew what he really had in mind as he walked closer, his eyes bright.  
"Well, what do you think? Meet you know where in about thirty?"  
Thirty? She wouldn't wait that long if she didn't have to, she thought, her breath rising.  
"They haven't ordered us to stop yet…"  
"My girl."  
She could get used to being called that, too, she thought, as they leaned in to kiss.

  
A claxon sounded.

  
Of course it did.

  
"Battlestations, Battlestations. Repeat, Battlestations." Able's dull voice doing nothing to make the situation any less aggravating. Then again, it was perhaps selfish of her to be more annoyed at missing out on that kiss than worrying that the war had finally begun, and she felt a little guilt at that fact.  
"Come on, be a drill…" Julian voicing what she hoped herself.  
"This is not a drill. Interceptors Ready One and Ready Two, scramble, repeat, scramble."

  
She knew he was on duty, and she knew that being one of the Vanguard's aces, that made him part of the first Ready element. That meant they were both going, so she wasn't about to let her chance slip by.  
"How'd the song go? You only live but once?"  
"Let the good times roll." He finished for her, and she pulled him to her by his uniform, lips meeting hungrily.  
She loved this, the fact that she made her feel slightly shorter, that she had to pull him closer to kiss, the way his hands enveloped her shoulders with a firm, but gentle grip. Even if the kiss itself seemed to last only a few seconds, she savoured every sensation, knowing it might be the last time she got to.

* * *

 

"We're detecting some sort of anomaly in the area, could be bio-hazard, could be something else. That means until we know more, containment protocols apply. Sending unit specific priorities now."

  
The view of Central Park, enveloped in nano, scared him. The fact that it moved so fast, that it covered everything, like locusts blotting out the sun. He had to know.  
He pulled up his contacts list and dialled.  
"C'mon, pick up, please…"

  
The call went through. His mom and Dri were running down the steps of the apartment block, and they were panicked, but safe.  
"Ma! Thank God you're safe. You need to…"  
"I know, Julian! We're heading for the subway. They just finished making one of the lines airtight after the attack in Boston. Nano won't get in there."  
Julian breathed again, feeling as if he was doing so for the first time in his life.  
"We're coming, Ma, so you and Dri stay safe. We'll have this sorted out, soon as possible."

  
As his mother and sister ran out of the block and raced for the subway entrance, he saw a little doubt in her eyes. Roberta was a police officer, and she knew how to control her fear. The fact that she said little told him plenty about how she was holding up.  
"I hope you can, Julian. Stay safe yourself. You and Miranda. Don't worry about us, we'll find a way out."  
That commanding tone that he'd known since he was a child set his mind more at ease. If there was anyone who would find a way out of the city if they had to, it would be his mother and sister.

Right now, he had a mission to attend to.

He looked up, and saw his hand hovering over the swing-wing switches that would push his fighter's wings forward.

He pulled back his hand. No need to break formation.

  
"Razzle, are you seeing this?" He asked, staring at the satellite image of New York that slowly disappeared beneath the thick, drifting clouds of Nano.  
"I am, Chase. Let's show these Union bastards what happens when the Vanguard has no need to hold back. We'll make sure everyone gets out."  
The Silver Falcons stayed in close formation, heading above the cloud cover and arming their cannon and missiles for combat.

* * *

 

The remnants of Central Park were desolate as she pushed through them, trees bereft of leaves, even the grass devoid of colour, as if someone had painted over the area with tar.  
Ahead, a thin line of NYPD officers were holding position behind overturned transports, and she pushed the strider to take position beside them, trying to draw the fire from the advancing Union troopers. She hadn't seen any transports, so she couldn't help but wonder where they'd all come from. Remembering talking to Roberta what seemed like a few moments ago, she swore as one of the officers fell, taken down by the hap-hazardly firing troops.

  
"Come on, you Union bastards." She muttered, firing a few rounds of the autocannon, the rounds scattering asphalt and troopers alike. Their armour might be proof against the low-calibre pistols that the NYPD was using, but it sure as hell couldn't take a round from a 30mm cannon, and she smiled with grim satisfaction as the cannon shells punched through the red and black carapaces, turning them into little more than clouds of red.

  
Behind though, besides the already burning wrecks of buildings, she saw the real threat: spider tanks, their guns firing shells that burst overhead, scuttling forward on their insect-like legs. She fired a few rounds of her cannon, and found the shells bouncing harmlessly off the thick armour of the drone's carapace, bursting in the concrete of a building nearby.

She frowned.  
"Ok, let's try switching it up then."

  
She switched to her missile pod, firing a single missile that arced slightly into the drone's side, detonating and forcing it off it's perch on the side of the building, legs splayed and clawing at the air as it tried to right itself. Another round screamed past her, exploding on the drone's less protected underside, sending robotic limbs scattering as the mechanical monster ceased its' struggle. Her other section striders were finally catching up with her.

  
"Sorry for the wait, Tempest. Looks like a hell of a fight."  
"It's the big one. Stay close, boys. Let's keep the NYPD alive long enough for them to pull back to the hornbill."  
"Roger that. Engaging."

  
The platoon spread out, doing their best to put themselves between the scattered NYPD, their civilian charges and more advancing units of spiders.

* * *

 

It was intense, but the four surviving members of the Silver Falcons had managed to break through the drone swarm and lost their pursuers in the maze of buildings that made up Manhattan. Razzle led her final bandit towards Hudson bay, before reversing thrust and destroying it with a short burst from her cannon.

  
"Chase, you see that big bastard by Lady Liberty?"  
Chase craned to see the walking monstrosity, a behemoth, demolishing the venerable statue simply by striding past it. His anger rose at the way the machine just trod on his city's history as if it were trash.

  
"I'm with you. Blitz, Chopper?"

"We're with you, Razzle." The other two pilots chorused, the flight forming up as they approached the abomination that strode over the rubble of Liberty island.

  
Falcons 3 and 4 fired their long range missiles, though they collided with some sort of cloud of nano the huge walker was projecting, and its' turrets tore off Falcon 4's wing, sending Chopper crashing into the cloud of nanotech swarming over the tip of the island with a strained scream as fire consumed the jet's cockpit.

Chase cursed. This thing would have to mean resorting to their big guns.

  
Razzle clearly thought the same. "Anvil Ops, Razzle, permission to fire up an ESD?"  
"Razzle, Ops, Permission granted. Aim only for the nanotech, you must not damage air traffic."  
"Ok Falcons, set yield for low inductance, we're heading Brooklyn. Blitz, this one's on you, we'll cover you."

  
Falcon 3 turned around, pulling into a stall to flip on it's tail.  
"Roger, Razzle, Arming now. Wait, I'm locked! They can detect the…"  
A flurry of fire erupted from the walker that disintegrated Falcon 3 and Blitz along with it.

  
"Shit." Razzle cursed. "Anvil Ops, ESD ineffective, I say again, ineffective. Lining up for another attack. Chase, we go in together, split their fire."  
"Roger that, Razzle."  
The two jets began charging their ESDs, splitting North and South to draw the machine's fire, and approaching each other.

  
"ESD released!" Chase yelled as he pushed his jet heavenward to escape the blast radius.  
"ESD releasing… Shit! I'm hit!" Razzle spat as her jet caught some of the return fire, its' left wing shorn from the fuselage. "Ejecting!"

  
The ESDs detonated, but Razzle's jet screamed into the sea-wall below, as a single parachute opened above the now fading cloud of Nano.  
"All right, that's it. All teams begin tactical retrograde procedures. Cover civilian transports as long as you can then get out of there. Evac, evac, evac." Marin sounded as unhappy as Julian was to have to pull out, but he knew that she had the full picture.

  
"Anvil Ops, Chaser, what about Razzle? I can see a chute."  
"Negative, Chaser, that area's too hot. Pull out and cover the transports. We'll recover her when we can."  
"But Colonel…"  
"That is an order."  
Julian sighed, but didn't argue. "Copy that, Ops."

He just hoped that Razzle would be able to find her way out, and pointed his fighter back to the hornbills now rapidly ascending from the battlefield that had been his hometown.

* * *

 

It was all going to shit.

  
While the ESDs had stopped most of the nano from the bay, more now approached from the West, and Miranda couldn't see any way out from her strider's perch atop the fallen spider. Several members of the Vanguard strider team had already been destroyed, and she was running out of ammunition, fast.

  
"Tempest to Chaser."  
"Go for Tempest." She grimaced, firing another few rounds into the approaching scorpion to little effect.  
"How you holding up?"  
"I don't know how we're gonna get out of this one."  
"You better head to the transports while there's still time, there's more coming." Chase sounded worried.

  
She fired a final salvo of missiles at the approaching walker, and watching as it exploded, ignoring the now-glaring ammunition counter which told her that she was out. She looked down and saw the Strider's left leg had been destroyed by the last exchange of fire.  
"I'm going deck-side…"  
"Julian, don't. We've been fighting to secure these civilians, keep them safe. Don't let our fight be in vain."

  
A stray shot from another spider caught her Strider full in the side, sending it sprawling against a nearby deli, the walls crumpling from the strain. Lights screamed at her from her dashboard, and she felt heat on her cheek, turning to see a smouldering fire from one of the severed electrical connections in the cockpit. She strained at her seatbelt, and found that it was stuck.  
"But Miranda…"

  
She scrambled, clawing at one of the panels to her left, before breaking it with her elbow. She grabbed the extinguisher inside, and extinguished the sparking electrical fire with it, but as she did, she saw more sparks spread across the whole rear of the cockpit, exposed wiring that looked set to burst.

The flames were slowly engulfing the whole strider.

  
She felt tears in her eyes as she saw the cloud of nano rolling towards her, a thick layer of black that enveloped everything. She'd seen the soldiers on the ground exposed to it, heard their screams.  
Her cockpit was sealed.  
She preferred to burn alive than face whatever they had.

  
"Get OUT, Chase! I'll come back as soon as I can!"  
"Miranda…"

"I love you, Chase." She ended the call, feeling her skin blister.  
She didn't want him to hear her scream.


	2. You Only Live But Once

The pain was intense, but she had managed to put out the last of the raging fires, the extinguisher covering the exposed wiring in a haze of clogging foam.

Groggily looking down at her hands, she drew her knife and sawed away at the seatbelt that had kept her trapped inside the Strider, stretching a little as she felt the blood return to her weary arms and legs.

  
She reached for the first aid kit, and quickly applied some burn cream to the side of her face where the pain was fiercest, and almost yelped at the sensation of her nerves screaming.

Whimpering lightly from the pain, she then held a cooling pad to her cheek and looked out of her cockpit at the ruins of the buildings around her.

A few Union troopers stood on the intersection, searching the alleys and doorways for any stragglers that they hadn't initially spotted. The Nano had moved on, leaving dead vegetation in its' wake.  
"I can't believe I survived a cockpit fire just to get shot by some Union nobodies", she muttered, looking around the cockpit for her sidearm. Inside one of the hidden compartments, she grabbed the emergency pistol, and racked back the slide, before peering out again.

  
The patrol was slowly moving on, heading further East from her twisted Strider, and she thanked her foresight to have put up the privacy windows, so she hadn't been spotted. Unluckily for her, the strider was out of power, and so she knew that opening the cockpit would mean kicking open the front hatch, something liable to draw attention. Unless...

  
She breathed, slowly, letting herself calm down a little, and wincing from the pain in her cheek.  
"Ok, Miranda. Just a steady push, nothing too hard." She said to no one, psyching herself up.  
She leaned against her seat, and gingerly placed her boots on the front panel of the strider, and pushed back on the chair, applying an even pressure to the plate.

It creaked a little, but didn't give, so she drew back and held her breath, before trying again.

This time, the hatch groaned more, and she could see a crack of light through the gaps.  
Progress.

  
With a last push, the hatch gave way, more quietly than she'd dared hope, leaving a short enough distance open that she could squeeze through.

She slipped through the gap to the ground, landing as lightly as she could, and removed her battered helmet, letting her hair out. Around, the acrid stench of burnt cables and the waft of ash stung her eyes, and she blinked hard to keep them from watering.

Tempest was collapsed through the second floor of the deli, one leg keeping the wreck anchored in the asphalt, while the other was still extended, wires dangling where the spider tank had destroyed the remainder of the mechanical limb.

  
The sight saddened her.

She'd piloted this strider since training, and she knew all the little nooks and markings almost as well as Migas did, from the lightning sigil referencing her call-sign, to her personal choice of armament of dual autocannon on the arm mounts.

She gently patted Tempest's leg with sorrow.  
"Thank you, old friend."

  
She looked around the wreck, but found nothing of use other than the Strider's identity chip, which she put in her hip pouch. For sentiment, she took the magnetic lightning marking and stored it too, for whenever she returned to the Vanguard.

  
She crouched out of sight as a Union airship hovered low overhead, searchlights sweeping the street for any stragglers.

  
IF ever she returned to the Vanguard.

* * *

 

Julian was a mess. He couldn't stop thinking about her, trapped in the cockpit as the flames closed in, the ever-encroaching nano following close behind. He breathed heavily, looking at one of his recent photo albums of the two of them overlooking the sunset at the Anvil.

At least he knew his mom and Dri might be ok.

  
"Hey, Chase, you ok?"  
He looked up, blurry eyed.  
"Hmm?"  
Migas was looking down at him, concerned.  
"Want to talk about it?"  
"Nah, I'm good." He lied.  
"Uhuh. Well, can I at least get your mind off things a bit?"  
Julian raised an eyebrow. "What you got?"

  
Migas smiled. "Well, other than the game of Siege I had planned for you with Leon and Jodie?"

His expression hardened, and he brought up the schematics for Julian's Interceptor. The cockpit was highlighted in red.

"I was talking with some of your gearheads earlier about your bird."  
"What of it?"  
"Well, you were just out of the ESD's radius. If you'd been inside it, you know you'd have fallen out of the sky, right."  
"Right."  
"Well, turns out the Ejector Seats aren't designed to survive an ESD either. If it went off and you'd been inside it… well, you wouldn't be here."

Chase swallowed.  
"Not sure if that makes it better or worse, Migas."  
"Well, Razzle was lucky to get out fine."  
Julian sniffed and looked away for a moment, trying to settle his feelings.  
"Yeah. Any contact yet?"  
"Nothing, but her transponder was turned on, so she's alive, man."  
It was the first good bit of news he'd heard since leaving New York.  
"Thanks, Migas."  
"Don't mention it. If you need to talk, I'm always around."

Migas smiled, before letting the door shut behind him and leaving Chase alone in the darkness once again.

Julian didn't have the energy to turn on the lights right now.

Besides, turning them on would only remind him of how empty his bunk was without Miranda, or how silent it was next door in Blitz's room.

* * *

 

Walking wasn't easy, but she had to keep going.

  
She was putting distance between herself and Tempest, while searching the buildings along the way for any sort of shelter for the evening. She'd made a good two miles this morning without being spotted, but she knew her luck wouldn't last for ever.

  
She slithered closer to the wall, shrinking against the storefront of what had been a pizza place, pistol raised in her right hand as she peered round the corner.  
Nothing.

  
The city was… empty.

Eerily so, as if someone had just deleted all the people like an Ether server wipe.

Other than the places where the fighting had been fiercest, there was remarkably little damage. The whole city was as quiet as a graveyard, and it struck her that it might be peaceful if not for the occasional whining of Union fighters overhead, or stamping of scorpion walkers.

  
She hurried along, keeping herself pressed against the left side of the avenue, checking her corners as she went, just in case the Union was securing any of the buildings. Overhead, the skies were beginning to clear of nano, but she doubted that the swarms were gone for good. More likely, they'd found a pocket of Polity resistance and gathered there to choke the last remnants.  
It was a grim thought, but if that was what it took to keep her alive, so be it.

  
She reached an intersection, keeping herself flat against the convenience store's front as she scanned the area for movement.

  
Shit.

  
A single Union trooper was examining some sort of wreck on the far side, poking around the rubble.

She knelt to focus, and her eyes widened.

  
The wreck was a Polity Interceptor, the Vanguard logo on one of its' tailfins. Panic set in as she wondered if Julian had in fact not escaped, but she couldn't tell what callsign the aircraft was from this far away.

  
She had to know.

  
She drew her knife, hearing the faint rustle of leather as it left the sheathe.  
Time to be quiet.

  
She crept around the corner of the intersection, looking both ways to see if the trooper had any squadmates, but he seemed to be alone.

  
"You getting this?" A garbled voice echoed from the wreckage, bass boosted and almost alien.  
The trooper looked down at his wrist, as if he were recording something from the wreckage.  
"Pilot ejected. Ident code Vanguard."

  
She edged further, crouching as she ran and taking cover behind the interceptor's wing which lay in the middle of the intersection, torn off by the impact with the asphalt.  
If the pilot wasn't inside, then whose aircraft was it?  
"Negative. ESD was discharged. No signs of it."

  
Only two ESDs had been used during the battle, Miranda thought, her eyes narrowing. One was Razzle's. The other…

  
The wing creaked, and her heart skipped a beat. She must have been leaning too heavily on it. The Union trooper turned on his heel to face the direction of the sound.  
"Possible hostile movement."

  
She flung herself down as the Union soldier raised his submachine-gun and began walking towards the wing.  
There wasn't much distance between them, but she'd lost the element of surprise, and she wasn't about to throw her life away in some suicidal charge.

  
She peered over the trailing edge of the wing, barely noticing the charred marks where the last fuel had burnt off, or the tear marks where a sign-post had shorn the vertifan from it's housing. The soldier was in full black and red carapace, and she knew her pistol was unlikely to make a dent. She drew it anyway.  
Time to put the days on the range to use.

She lined up the approaching figure and aimed carefully for the head.

  
A spray of sub-machine gun fire forced her head down.  
"Fuck!" She yelled despite herself.

  
Sparks erupted from the wing, and she counted herself lucky she hadn't been more exposed, or one of those rounds would have taken her head off.  
She knelt low behind the wing, and shifted her knife into her right hand, pistol in her left. She had a plan, but she only had one chance at this.

  
As the trooper took cover behind the scattered parts of engine that separated them, she took a running start, and ran up the side of the wing, jumping into a forward roll. Rounds arced around her, and she rolled to the left, behind another piece of wreckage, opening up with her pistol.

  
Five, Six… Seven…  
She emptied the whole clip into the skull helmet, and the trooper staggered from the impact, just as she had intended. She sprinted the remaining distance at the slowly recovering figure, and threw herself at the body-plate, forcing the trooper onto his back, and pinioning his weapon arm with her left arm, while sliding the knife under the rubber seal on the neck of the hardsuit.

  
"Wait, Wai—"  
The soldier panted, a panicked, desperate plea, but it was too late.

The knife slid home, and his last words turned into a gargle. Blood flowed through the pierced seal, and she almost retched as the man coughed, causing more blood to pulse from his open neck.

As the adrenaline wore off, she panted, letting go of the knife and rolling off the corpse, exhausted and sickened, her hands coated with the man's blood.

  
She'd never killed anyone with her bare hands before. The sensation of relief, mingled with a small measure of pride that she'd survived, disgusted her.

  
Looking left and right, she checked that there was no backup coming for the trooper immediately, planning as she hauled herself to her feet, not caring about the sting she felt in her side, knowing that at best she had maybe a few minutes before someone came to investigate.

  
She fumbled with the catch on the skull-shaped helmet, and ripped it off the soldier, finding herself face to face with a man who could have been anyone from the Vanguard or the Polity.

He looked to be the same age as her, possibly younger.

"Sorry." She whispered. "It was you or me."

  
Piece by piece, she stripped the armor from the man's suit, and peeled off his body-suit. She hurriedly tore off her own Vanguard battle dress, and dressed the corpse in it, pulling on the still bloody-necked body-suit herself.

For the final touch, she took one of her emergency flares, struck it and placed the corpse face-down on top of it, knowing that the burns from it would make his face an uncrecognisable mess.

  
She picked up the armor pieces and limped to the corner shop that the interceptor's nose had ploughed into. As she passed the cockpit, she saw that the pilot's seat had indeed been ejected, but she knew the call-sign written along the edge well enough.

  
Razzle.

  
She breathed, finally feeling the splitting pain in her abdomen. She must have caught one of the bullets after all, though from the damage, it looked like it had passed through quite cleanly.

Taking what was left of her first aid kit, she wrapped the wound tightly with gauze, and disinfected the area.

  
Leaning against a rack of magazines to steady herself, she reattached the plate armour of the Union carapace over the body suit, and sealed the helmet with a click. If the Union troops could walk through nano without dying, then these suits must have something to do with it, she considered.

  
"Brick. Come in."  
A harsh voice reverberated through the solid-plate helmet, and she realised it was directed at her.

  
Outside, a patrol was approaching the slumped corpse, and she walked stiffly towards them. With a gesture from the Union submachine-gun to the body, she announced her presence, happy that they at least lowered their weapons when they saw her.

  
She lowered her tone, trying to imitate the soldier's cant as best she could, emerging from the shadows of the shop.  
"Vanguard straggler."

  
The squad-leader with a red striped running down his helmet looked over at her slow gait, with as much curiosity as could be shown through a fully enclosed helmet.  
"You're wounded."  
"Nothing serious."

She intoned, keeping her speech short and clipped so that she exposed her voice to as little scrutiny as possible.  
"Fine. Squad, two by two, we're heading North. Find the pilot."

  
She took position in the squad, in the second pair of the six, sweeping the upper windows of the city with the sub-machine gun and doing her best to mirror the rest of the patrol's actions, ignoring the pain.

  
She was shot, burnt, alone, and now, surrounded by enemies.  
And she wasn't about to let that stop her.

* * *

 

A beep from the Ether surprised him as he slept, having finally slumped against his pillow and let go.

He groggily fumbled for his headset and brought up the interface, blinking a small part of his sleep away, and taking note of the time; 4 AM.

  
"Hello." He wasn't in the mood to be especially polite.  
"Ahhh, Julian? Julian Chase?" An unfamiliar voice asked.  
"Yeah?"  
"Ah, charmed, really. I've heard all about you and your stellar record. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time?"

  
Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, already bored of this nuisance call, and just wanting to return to sleep.  
"Sorry, who is this?"  
"Oh, of course, where are my manners. I'm from the ESU. Name's Weller, Dr. Rufus Weller."


	3. And When You're Dead, You're Done

Despite the Anvil being home to so many men and women, Colonel Marin's office was surprisingly quiet, being placed so many floors above the majority of the hubbub, but only next door to the main command centre.

  
Weller had his hands placed firmly on the chair facing the Colonel, while Chase stood against the doorway.

  
"He's ready, Colonel."  
"I can't say I'm pleased at the prospect, Dr. Weller. Chase is the Vanguard's last ace. He is irreplaceable."  
"Exactly why he's perfect for Gen:Lock, Colonel! The system only works for those with a great deal of neuroplasticity, and Julian has what it takes to work with it. We can make sure that he sees the action without ever being in harm's way."

  
"I'm standing right here, Doc." Julian announced.  
"Right, of course; Sorry Chase, you can speak for yourself."  
Julian leisurely paced to the Colonel's desk, taking note of her dour expression. This would have to be handled with tact, something that Weller, for all of his incredible mind, was not in possession of.

  
"Do you want this, Chase? You do know that there's a good chance that you step into one of those pods, you never come back."  
Chase nodded, his expression firm.  
"That's true, Colonel, but the same can be said of my interceptor. When I fired that ESD, I took a risk that I'd never come back. I'm not afraid. If this means taking the fight to the Union, then I'll take that shot. Whatever it takes to get my family out." He looked out at the base's expanse laid out in front of the Colonel's window, and nodded to it. "All of their families out."

  
Marin wasn't happy, but she did see his point.  
"Fine. Where are you doing your experiments, Weller?"  
"Ah, uh well, that's classified, you see, but I can arrange transport to and from the Anvil for Chase easily enough. He'll be with us at the ESU for… a few months at most, I imagine?"  
"What about the Anvil?"  
"Well, we could relocate phase one testing to your neck of the woods I suppose, though that would mean accommodating us and our machinery, personnel, vehicles…"

  
Chase smiled inwardly. It was nice to have these two fighting over him, even if it was partly because of his compatibility with Gen:Lock rather than his personal abilities.

  
"I can arrange it."  
"With respect, Colonel, I'm not sure that you'll be able to house the…"

"And with respect, Doctor, we will make it happen. If Gen:Lock is what you claim it to be, then there is no better place to test it."

  
Weller sighed, pinching his nose.  
"Fine."

* * *

 

"Brick, Your turn."

  
Miranda breathed heavily as the Union squadleader pointed her at the doorway. She shoulder-barged the wooden door, and found it collapse in a crash of splinters and cracked wood. The Union carapace suit had some definite advantages, she considered, as she admired her handiwork.

  
"What do you see?"

  
She snapped back to alertness, scanning the room of the apartment complex with her sub-machinegun, and seeing nothing other than the scattered memories of a family that once lived there; Photos, used plates and the odd trinket lost in the family's rush to escape.

  
"Clear." She grunted, before turning back to leave the apartment and rejoining the squad as they made their way up the block's stairs.  
"Next one. Fuse, you're up."

  
The largest of the troopers kicked down the next door effortlessly, before clearing the room himself.  
"Clear. No life signs."

  
Miranda breathed a slight sigh of relief.

She was glad they hadn't come across a family or Razzle yet, forcing her to break her cover with this group.

  
It had been almost a full week since she'd joined Patrol Zulu Alpha 22, and replaced "Brick", the soldier inspecting Razzle's destroyed aircraft. Since then, their Squad leader, "Short", had been driving them mercilessly to find the pilot. Apparently, someone in the Union believed that she knew something more about the ESDs than they were already aware of, so they'd been ordered to take her in.

  
Miranda had been alarmed as soon as she'd heard that they were investigating the ESDs.

If the Union found a way to counter one weapon the Polity had that could stop the nano, then the next time the Vanguard went up against the Union, there might not be any survivors.

She knew she had to stop them from finding Razzle, and extract her herself if she could. But she had no better leads than Short and his squad, and so remaining in their fold was fine by her.

  
Initially it'd been tough to remain concealed, hiding her voice, but then she found some of the audio sliders on the helmet could do a good job of masking her particular quirks anyway, so long as she kept her speech short and clipped. She ate her rations and treated her wounds away from the squad, and none of them seemed to question her. She guessed it was partially because they were often taking toilet breaks themselves, just heading off and rejoining the squad, that nobody asked questions.

The Union troops were more robotic than human, she considered. They never discussed their orders, or griped, or relaxed, or talked about missing home.

They just… were.

  
The quiet that afforded her was quite welcoming, as she had time to plan, formulate ideas about which of the troopers she would need to shoot first when she did find Razzle, mark way-points and locations of interest for whenever she did make a break for it. It also gave her time to reflect. Everyone in the Vanguard would be sure that she was dead. Julian would be distraught.

She just wanted to get back to the Anvil as soon as she could.

  
But right now, the mission came first, and the mission was Razzle.

  
Short burst through the next door himself.

Despite his drone-like nature, she thought she could detect a hint of frustration in his retort.  
"Nothing. You're up again, Brick."

  
She steeled herself for whatever was behind this final door, and panted, hard, before throwing herself at the locked wooden door, shoulder first.  
Inside, a woman with short blonde hair, and Vanguard uniform had a pistol aimed straight at her, slumped against a fridge. Her left leg was bound to a splint made from a piece of metal pipe, but her expression was stern and determined.

  
She recognised the face instantly from meeting the rest of Julian's Silver Falcons.  
Razzle.

  
Miranda lowered her submachine gun, and raised a hand to her lips on her skull helmet. Razzle looked confused but didn't lower her pistol from her iron handed grip. She clearly didn't want to reveal her position any more than Miranda did, but she wasn't taking any chances.

Miranda slowly opened her right hand, to reveal her callsign marker held firmly in her palm. Rasmussen's eyes opened wide, before she nodded silently, understanding her.

  
"Brick. Report."

  
Miranda took a second to breathe, planning her next move.

  
"All clear."

  
She raised her hands slowly in Razzle's direction, pointed behind her, and gestured with all her fingers extended.  
Five.  
Five troopers.  
Razzle gently eased herself upright against the wall, and nodded, readying her pistol.

  
"Hurry up, Brick."  
She turned, and started backing towards Razzle, keeping her weapon levelled at the door, hoping that Razzle would get what she was trying to do.

  
"Sir."  
Strong arms enveloped her from behind, and she saw the pistol in the corner of her eye.  
Good. Exactly as planned.

  
"Sir!" She intoned, trying to sound more panicked, as if she'd just been captured.  
"Stay back you Union bastards, or I'll blow this one's brains out!" Razzle was scared, but her resolve was fierce. She knew the feeling all too well, right now.

  
Razzle slowly manoeuvred her behind the apartment's kitchenette, putting a solid wall behind them and the entrance. She felt her reach for an extra magazine, and take a deep breath.  
"Sir!" Miranda asked again, pleading.  
Fuse and one of the other troopers stepped into the room with heavy foot-falls, their weapons levelled at her and Razzle.

  
"Surrender."  
She knew they didn't care about her, any more than they would have cared about themselves if they were in her place.

It was Razzle they wanted to keep alive.

  
She barely had time to process what happened next as Razzle snapped her pistol to fire at something by the door and threw her against the fridge.

Behind the two troopers, a Flare had been hanging on the wall, and it exploded in a flash, dazzling them.

Razzle ducked beneath the counter and began unloading with her pistol.  
Miranda knew she only had a few seconds. She rolled out from behind the fridge, and opened fire on Fuse herself, who grunted as he was thrown to the floor, the spray of bullets ripping through his ribcage and spraying blood over the floor.

The other soldier turned to her with surprise, snapping his weapon in her direction, opening himself up to a well-placed shot from Razzle that shattered through his face-shield and threw him to the floor, blood pouring from the remains of his face.

  
Miranda's cover was blown.

She picked up Fuse's weapon and tossed it through the kitchenette window to Razzle, before throwing herself flat against the pillar separating them.

  
Outside, boots came tramping down the staircase, and she knew they didn't have long.  
As if in answer to her thoughts, she saw a small metal ball fly through the open door, bouncing off the hallway wall, and landing in front of her.  
"Grenade!"  
She kicked the shape back towards the hallway, and flung herself back flat against the floor, cursing.

  
A sharp, sudden explosion rippled through the room, shrapnel shredding the pillar she hid behind, and she heard Razzle yell in pain.

  
There was no time to be idle. She rolled out from the pillar on her stomach, just in time to catch one of the troopers running in, expecting them to be dazed. Flat on the floor, she made a small target, and with a few short bursts of fire, she cut him down, the body hitting the floor with a dull thud from the armor plates.

  
She heard some shifting from her left, and knew Razzle was re-positioning to get a better sight-line on the door. Miranda covered her eyes as Rasmussen tossed another flare over her head into the doorway, and took the opportunity to reload, sliding a new magazine home with a satisfying clack.

  
At least the odds were even now, two against two.

  
Another two grenades, both too long, were thrown in, rolling under the seating area at the far end of the room. The blast tore the yellow couch in half, hurled onto its' side, and she held her position as the other two Union soldiers ran in. Miranda opened fire, catching the squadleader's helmet in the sights, the glass cracking and Short flung backwards by a round to the forehead that sprayed the wall behind him with his brain matter.

  
The other soldier had ducked around the corner to avoid her line of sight, but didn't have enough time to find himself in Razzle's defilade as she cut him down with a burst from Fuse's weapon.

  
The silence that followed was deafening, after the roar of weapons fire, explosions and the tumbling of shell casings on the floor.

  
"Clear." She breathed, letting herself come down from the combat high.  
"Clear!" She heard Razzle echo, no less relieved than she was.

  
She lowered her weapon and stood up, making her way over to Razzle, and helping the older woman to her feet.

  
"Thanks. I wouldn't have made it out without you."

Rasmussen panted, before leaning back against the now ruined kitchenette, clutching her bleeding arm. "Who…"  
Miranda fumbled with the clasps on the helmet, and taking a refreshing breath as fresh air rushed into her lungs.

It helped to keep a little of the anxiety and panic at bay as it now took over from the adrenaline.  
"Miranda?!"  
She nodded, Simone's face unreadable.  
"I thought you'd managed to evac after the ESD. What the hell happened?"  
She couldn't help but notice that Simone was looking at her burns, and turned her face away, suddenly a little self-conscious.

  
"I survived."  
Simone's eyes turned downwards sadly, and Miranda brought up her carapace's interface. A small swarm of red dots were converging on their position; They had to move.

  
"Can you walk?" She asked, looking back up to Simone with a raised eyebrow.  
"Barely." Razzle nodded at her splinted leg. "You got an exit?"  
Miranda looked at the five bodies spread through the room, and shrugged.

"Beginnings of one at least. Put one of those bodysuits on."


	4. So Let The Good Times Roll

They'd finally outpaced the last few squads of Union troopers, walking straight past them like an individual patrol without drawing attention.

Having finally put some distance between them at the apartments, they slowed down as they headed below ground through the subway.

The time had come to take their leave of New York.

  
"Hell of an introduction," Razzle teased as they made their way down the abandoned subway entrance, searchlights on their sub-machineguns piercing the gloom. "Would've thought that I'd have at least spoken more than a sentence with my XO's girlfriend before."  
"Well, trust Julian to not do a proper job at the Anvil." Miranda rolled her eyes, but the thought did bring back a rare grin.

She swept her weapon left, illuminating the disused turnstiles and scattered detritus of the subway entrance. "Other than the Silver Falcons callsign party, I don't think we've ever really talked."  
She heard a groan from Simone that made her smirk.  
"Please, don't remind me; I think I can still feel that hangover. Still, plenty of chance to catch up for missed time now."

  
Miranda stepped gingerly onto the platform, making sure to sweep left and right. "Clear."  
Rasmussen lowered her weapon as she limped down to join her, peering into the gloom of the subway tunnels before looking back to her.  
"So, what's our plan?"  
Miranda looked down at her carapace sensors to check how breathable the air was.  
Clean, no nano, no gas, nothing.

  
"Let's get these buckets off. Don't want to be mistaken for Union if we come across any of our own."  
She reached up to her neck, and undid the clasps on the helmet, letting her hair and face feel the stillness of the air down here.

She found herself looking at Simone having done the same, her short-cropped blonde hair rustling as she shook her head, tapping her ears to acclimatise.  
"I hate these things. Take you out of the world completely."

  
Miranda raised an eyebrow.  
"You interceptor pilots have enclosed helmets too."  
"Sure, but they're made of glass. Help you feel in control of your bird. These ones are so..."Simone mimed tunnel vision with both hands. "Blinkered. Don't understand how the Union grunts can stand 'em."  
Miranda shrugged.  
"I don't know what their deal is. I shadowed that patrol for a week. No chatter, no back-talk, no pining for home. No lovers, or spouses, or jokes, or teasing, or… anything. Just eat, fight, sleep."

  
She turned to see Razzle looking past her into space.  
"Wonder if that's what they want to turn us into? The Polity, I mean."  
"Don't know. I just know I'd rather be dead."  
"Still time for that," Rasmussen noted grimly, coming back to life and patting her roughly on the shoulder.  
"Heh. Well, they've certainly tried hard so far."

She nodded at the subway map on the pillar they stood by. "Been to New York before?"  
"Once or twice. Can't say I remember the metro system at all, though."  
Miranda nodded. It wasn't unusual for visitors to completely forget how the subways ran once they'd left, even if they'd been experts a few days earlier.

She furrowed her brow as she examined the map, trying to make out where they ought to head through the mess of junctions and stations.  
"We need to head for Hudson Yards. The Lincoln tunnel is beyond that, hopefully we can get out onto the road, head West."  
"Sounds like a plan." Razzle tied her splinted leg tighter for the trip, grimacing with the pain of doing so. "Can't say I'll miss this city."

  
Miranda smiled at the understatement. She wanted to get as far away from here as possible. "Me neither. You ready?"  
Simone grinned back. "Mind the closing doors, please."  
They set off into the dark together, Simone limping behind while Miranda took the lead, the tunnel leading into a seemingly never-ending void.

* * *

 

He felt.

From his head to his toes, feeling coursed through his mind, comprehension made form within his body.

  
He opened his eyes, and saw the whole hangar arrayed before him.

Striders being worked on, repair crews bringing gear from ready stations to their assigned charges, buggies and FAVs rumbling outside. Small details that he'd never have noticed before rushed to meet him, too.

  
Migas sweating over one of the Striders, re-adjusting servos, while waving to the pilot to fire up the controls. A few off-duty pilots playing basketball in the corner of the hangar, missing the basket completely. A platoon of soldiers being drilled around the edge, Drill Instructor screaming at them the whole way.

  
He looked down at his feet.

  
Metal, four stories of it. He raised his arms, and the Holon's arms rose in time. It wasn't a slow or delayed response, it was immediate. He didn't feel like he was controlling the Holon, he felt like he WAS the Holon.  
"Pretty different, eh, Chase?" Weller's smooth tone cheered him on. "How about trying a few steps?"

  
He reached out with his leg, and found purchase on solid ground beneath. He wasn't falling, but stepping forward.  
"I know how it works, Doc, I've read the guides over and over again, but it's just…"  
"Takes some getting used to?"

  
He looked out of the hangar, to a glorious sunset over the valley. Piloting a Holon wasn't the only thing he'd have to get used to.  
"Yeah."

  
He stepped forward again, feeling his way around this new body. Below him, parked FAVs barely came up to his ankle.  
"Man, I feel like I'm a kid about to step on toys again."

"Well, uh, let's not do that, Chase. Those are quite expensive toys after all."  
"I'm just joking, Doc. No collateral damage from this guy."  
He looked down and saw that he was pointing his thumb at himself. He hadn't even planned to do so, it just came naturally.

  
Weller seemed to be able to read his thoughts.  
"You see now how it's just as if it's a part of you, don't you, Chase. This can be you, out in the field."  
He emerged into the sunshine, and blinked.

As he walked around the Anvil's mustering grounds, he found himself warming to the idea.

  
"We'll hold off on running for now, since it's your first time, but… there's a spare crate in front of you that Colonel Marin wanted to get rid of."  
He looked down and saw the shipping container, the size of a shoebox to his mind, but life-size next to his hand.

  
"You sure she won't mind if I break this?"  
"I believe her words were 'So long as he doesn't make too much of a mess.' Go ahead, Chase."

  
He lifted the several tonne container like he would a piece of cardboard, amazed at the Holon's strength.  
"This is… surreal, Doc."

"Trust me, it doesn't feel any less that way from up here, Julian."  
He slowly compressed his fist, and the container squealed with the sound of tortured metal, before crumpling beneath the Holon's strength.

  
"Doc, there any incoming traffic for me to worry about if I toss this thing?"  
"The Holon has a full sensor suite. You should be able to tell."

  
Weller was right. He could see blips for miles around him, from patrol vehicles in the desert outskirts to gunships doing training sorties, but nothing in front of the Anvil for a good distance.

  
"Well… let's see how far…"

He wound up like his Dad had showed him when they'd played baseball in the park, before releasing all the stored energy into the container with an almighty heft. The small container sailed through the air with all the grace of a brick, but the force behind it was enough to easily send it high over the Anvil's defensive walls.

  
"Six!" Weller laughed. "Oh, right. You don't play cricket over here. Uh, what is it in Baseball again? Home Run?"  
"Something like that." Julian squinted, zooming in, and saw the crumpled container practically explode on impact with the ground, nearly a mile away.

  
"That's gotta be a record." Julian found himself smiling inwardly.

"Wait, so how much up-time do I have left?"  
"Looks like about half an hour? Bags of time."

  
Oh yeah.

  
He could get used to this.

* * *

 

She chewed slowly, the MRE sliding down her gullet with the ease of sawdust. Besides her, Razzle was also reaching into her ration pack. She was almost amazed at how long these protein bars had lasted her, but Miranda knew that was how they were designed.

  
Rasmussen folded her bar back into her carapace armor's front pocket and sighed. "Man, I can't wait for some proper food."  
"Never thought I'd miss the Anvil's cooking." Miranda snorted, doing her best to ignore the blandness of the bar.  
"Fish Fridays are the worst. Ugh."  
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't know what a real fish looked like if they actually caught one."

  
Simone laughed, the sound echoing off the darkened tunnel ahead of them.  
"Speaking of, you ever try the dish of the day?"  
Miranda groaned. "Worst meal I ever had. How are you supposed to enjoy a date when all you have is canteen food?"  
Simone balked. "No. He didn't."  
"What?"  
"Julian did NOT take you to the canteen for a date."

  
She smiled at the memory.  
"Well, he did say we could pretend we were at a fancy restaurant on the Ether whenever we wanted, while the canteen would only be open for so long before it got shut for some health-code violation."  
"Sounds like the Julian I know."

  
It had been a nice date, all things considered. With the food so lousy that neither of them were eating for pleasure, they'd both spent the whole time focused on each other, eyes locked, his hands warmly pressed against hers across the plastic table. That same warmth that she'd felt later in his room when he'd enclosed her in his arms, how her stomach felt like a pit when he'd swept her bangs to the side of her face with his fingers, the press of his lips against hers, her quickening breath as his strong hands had run up past her legs…  
God, she missed him.

  
Simone read her vacant, thoughtful expression, and reached her own conclusion.

  
"You'll see him again soon, Miranda."  
She wanted to believe it, but for the moment, she was focused on just getting them out of Manhattan. With a rustle, she thrust the MRE back into her hip pouch, and raised her flashlight to sweep the rest of the tunnel ahead of them.

  
Nothing.

  
The only sound was the dripping from a broken pipe overhead, the occasional squeak from the rats that darted away from their approach. Still… Miranda held up her fist, motioning for them to stop. Something was off about the tunnel ahead. Sound seemed to reverberate of it's own accord, as if there was a hollow space behind the walls.

  
She raised her weapon, and heard Razzle do the same behind her.  
Flashlights sparked up, blinding the two of them.

  
"Identify yourselves!" A voice called out.  
She squinted through her weapon sights, trying her best to find targets through the incandescent light, holding her ground. She wasn't going to let the Union take her alive. Not after all they'd done to her.

  
"We're Vanguard!" Razzle yelled beside her, lowering her weapon and walking forward.  
"Careful, Simone…" She hissed to her partner.  
"Who are you?" The Interceptor pilot yelled back at the flaring light.

  
"Resistance. Your Names."  
"What?"  
"He said what are your names!" Another voice yelled, this time, a woman.

  
"Lieutenant Rasmussen, Callsign Razzle. Lieutenant Miranda Worth, Callsign Tempes…"  
"Miranda?"

  
She knew that voice. She'd heard it for the first time only recently.  
Her eyes widened and she dropped her weapon immediately.

  
"Mrs. Chase?"


	5. Don't Care if You're Young or Old

Few of the NYPD had managed to escape the battle, Roberta explained, gesturing to the map.

The 7th Line had been a haven for many civilians who had found their way into the Subway system, separated as it was from the outside air by air-locks and an independent recycled air supply.

Those officers who had been fighting in Brooklyn had led civilians up towards the Lincoln tunnel, where they now ran an underground railroad of refugees heading out to the West. For almost two weeks now, the NYPD had held this small enclave of territory, from the subway stop to the tunnel, to try and let as many civilians out of New York as possible.

  
Miranda looked up at Roberta with admiration.

What kind of strength did a person need to stand on that frontline, with a daughter in danger beside you?

  
"We'd love to pull out ourselves, but until the Vanguard or Polity can take over for us, we're all that's left for the people trying to get out."  
Razzle looked at the map carefully, paying close attention to parks and other open areas in New Jersey.  
"What're you thinking?" Miranda looked at the pilot, eyes narrowed.

  
"Just that if we could get a hornbill to one of these parks," She pointed to a trio of green spaces, "We can ship dozens of these civilians out."  
Roberta raised an eyebrow as she looked across to Rasmussen.  
"You sure? Last of the NYPD patrol cars and transports got shot down within two days. Whatever gets in is going to take a LOT of fire."

  
Miranda nodded. "Hornbills are tough. Provided the Vanguard can send some sort of Strider support to keep the Union's spider tanks off them, then there's a good chance you'll get everyone out."  
"It would be much easier than sending people one or two at a time, but it's also much riskier." Roberta looked over to an older man, the leader of the local Resistance, Hanson.  
"What about the rest? People are still going to want to escape the Union. We'd need to leave some people behind to help run the remainder out."  
Miranda looked to Simone.  
"Could we ask the Vanguard for some infiltrators? Get some trained people in to lead other groups out?"

  
Razzle frowned, looking at the map.  
"I mean, if you want to try and persuade the Colonel, then sure. It'd be better to have a central authority organising these rescue missions."

She glanced at Roberta. "No offense; you've done so much already to set people free, it's just that the Vanguard has more resources to make this happen."  
Roberta smiled, appreciating the words. "None taken. We've been doing our best here, that's it. If we can get these people out, that would be the win these people need."

Miranda looked behind Roberta to the gathered tents and huddled figures in the tunnels. More than a hundred and fifty people.  
"We can give these people a chance that they might not otherwise have."

  
Roberta looked over to Hanson.  
"It's your call. These are your people. I just protect them."  
Hanson grumbled, rubbing his face with exhaustion. Miranda wondered just how long he'd been awake.

  
"All right. Lt. Chase, we'll get you across the river to where the nano is thinnest, see if you can get a signal out to the Anvil. Lt. Rasmussen, we'll patch you up here while we wait for a return signal. If Miranda gets an all clear, then you'll be leading people out."  
Simone nodded, "Thank you." And limped towards one of the medic tents.

  
Hanson turned to Roberta.  
"You should get out, you and Dri."  
Roberta's eyes narrowed quickly.  
"Like hell. Dri goes, but I'm staying. This is my city too. I belong on the frontline. THIS frontline."

  
Hanson's grim expression softened.  
"You can stay, but they will find us eventually, Roberta. Your son and daughter need you. The Polity needs you. You can do more for this city from there, organising, than from here."  
"So then…" Chase's mother looked at him with concern. "You'll be the rear-guard?"

  
Hanson nodded.  
"Long as I can."  
Miranda looked down. It wasn't right to have to leave anyone behind, but unless someone held the tunnel, there was nothing to stop Union troops just rolling right through the tunnel on top of the refugees.

  
"Take care of yourself, Hanson." She found herself saying, "If it starts going to hell, run."  
He nodded, heading back towards the entrance, and Miranda found herself alone with Roberta.  
"Where is Dri, anyway?"

  
Roberta looked at her with sadness.  
"The ether, or at least, our private network of it, most likely. She's been trying to escape into it every night. I don't think she's taking losing our home very well, but then neither am I."

  
Miranda laid a hand on Roberta's arm in sympathy.  
"She's hooked up all the time now. God knows that's all I'd want to do if I let myself, but… I've got a duty to help those who can't help themselves."  
She leaned against the make-shift planning table, little more than an overturned subway tram door.  
"Dri's still a child. She's not equipped to deal with something like this."

Miranda nodded. She thought about the changes that had come over her since the cockpit fire, just two weeks ago.

In all truth, she'd been little better prepared for this war than Dri.

* * *

 

"Test fifteen… How's it going, Julian?"  
He felt himself tense, and slowly released that tension, the Holon loosening up around him.

  
"S'all good, Doc."  
"In your own time, then."

  
Chase's Holon knelt, and he fired a few rounds of the cannon down-range, much as he would an assault rifle. The holographic spider tank collapsed under a barrage of explosions, and he couldn't help but feel satisfied that the Holon was so effective.  
"Doc, what'd you even load in this thing?"  
"Armour-Piercing High Explosive. You might feel a bit less of a kick from the propellant, but the shell explodes on impact. Nasty effect on those spider tanks, as you can see."

  
He shifted his fire a bit to the right to another of the holographic targets, and with another burst, tore it's fore-limbs from its' body.  
"Two down. Last one to go."  
He switched to single shot, and fired a few rounds into the front sensor array of the insectoid drone, sending pieces of metal flying.

  
"How's that?"  
"Perfect job, Chase." Weller was enthusiastic about the success. "Want to go again? You've got plenty of time."

  
"Sure. Hit me." The Holon turned back to the courtyard, shucking another magazine home into the oversized rifle, in actuality more like a tank gun in calibre and firepower.  
"We'll turn up the difficulty on this one. Get ready…"

  
He got down into a crouch position behind a disused cargo container.  
"Let's go."

  
As soon as he said it, he saw a face shimmer into view in front of him.  
Red bangs, determined features and deep eyes that stared into his.  
"Chase?"

  
No.  
She was dead.

  
He hadn't dared to dream it, because to even think it, even give voice to the possibility, felt like putting it at risk of disappearing forever.  
This couldn't be real, had to be a glitch.  
"Doc, is… that Gen:Lock or me?"

  
He heard Weller suck in his breath between his teeth.  
"Chase, that's… real. Think you'd better answer. Caliban… let's give him some privacy."

  
The always-open channel with Weller abruptly closed, leaving him alone, the Holon still crouched in the concrete arena, Miranda's face projected in front of his eyes.  
The same face he thought lost forever, barring the blistered and twisted skin on her right cheek, her eyes searching his soul as they always had.

  
"Miranda?"  
"Chase!" He saw the corners of her mouth turn up when he spoke. "Oh, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice!"  
She looked like she'd been through hell.  
"You too. I thought you were gone, Miranda."

  
She smirked, but he noticed that her smile lacked the same earnestness it had before they'd left for the fight.  
"Union tried its' best. Listen, I don't have much time, the nano is gonna cut this off again soon. I found Razzle, your mom and Dri, I'm piggy-backing off their local ether server to get this signal through. All the military channels are blocked."

  
His relief doubled. He couldn't believe that all he had known was lost just a few minutes ago was still within reaching distance.  
"Why call me?" He asked, despite himself, despite knowing the answer.

  
She rolled her eyes as she furrowed her brow in annoyance.  
"I don't think I need to justify that with a response, Chase."  
Her expression softened. "We've got about 170 people here in need of evac to the Anvil. I'm sending locations, numbers, and escape windows now. Get them to the Colonel."

  
"Right away. How are you holding up? How soon can you move?"  
"We're alive, Chase. Best we can hope for right now. We're ready when you are."

  
He nodded, the Holon moving in time. "We're coming."  
She looked up, her face darkening as she saw something above.  
"Signal's about to cut out."  
He wasn't about to let her go without saying it again.  
"I love you."

  
Her smile was cut off as the signal went dead, the ghost of her image still burned into the Holon's eyepiece interface. It was only after Weller's voice came through that he shook himself into action.  
"Ah, Chase, that was quick, wh…"  
"Hang on, Doc. Able, I need to talk to Colonel Marin. NOW."

* * *

 

The park was quiet, and the thick nano above shaded some of the sunlight, giving the area quite an eerie atmosphere for mid-afternoon.  
Miranda glanced through the goggles again. The Razor gunships swung closer, hovering over the clearing. She just hoped that the sound wouldn't alert the local Union forces. She patted Dri's arm as she stared up at the rapidly approaching aircraft.  
"Any moment now."

  
She looked to her right to see Razzle emerging from the treeline, her own weapon raised as she scoured the surroundings for movement.  
"Last group just entered the park. Roberta and some of the militia are holding the gates."  
"I wish she wouldn't insist on being the last one out." Miranda sighed. "Time to get this show on the road."

  
She snapped her flare and tossed it into the middle of the park green, taking position in front of the huddled group of terrified men, women and children, waving to get their attention over the whine of the rotor-fans.  
"Everyone, keep your heads down! As soon as the transports land, we'll get you on two at a time. Don't rush, and we'll all get out."

  
The first Razor made a pass, patching into their local comms.  
"Hey, Tempest in the flesh! Anything for us to look out for?"

"Not yet, but keep your eyes peeled, we could have friends any moment."  
"Roger that, Tempest. We'll have you home ASAP."

  
The Razor hovered above the park entrance, and she could see the guns sweeping up and down the park's treeline, while the second Razor came onto the deck for a pickup.  
"All right! First group, Razzle!"

  
Simone nodded and ran forward with several of the refugees, some of the Polity soldiers fanning out from the gunship to help them on board. Miranda turned around to check on the second group, who were still staying close to the trees.  
"Get ready!" She yelled, as the gunship finally made it's way skyward, the third gunship circling around to take it's place.

  
"CONTACT!" Roberta yelled over the comms, gunfire echoing through the park.  
"Shit." Miranda looked at Dri, and patted her again. "Get as many people on board as you can."  
Dri nodded, clearly terrified, but determined, "You got it. Be right behind me, sis." Before leading the second group towards the landing transport in a loping run.

  
Miranda ran through the trees, ignoring the branches that whipped at her, seeing Razzle running across the open field to her left to join her.

"How many, Roberta?"  
"Platoon, maybe more." Chase's mother spat between shots. "Ah, hell. They've got spider tanks too."

  
Her blood ran cold. They didn't have anything to deal with tanks, and the transports were carrying passengers, so they couldn't risk getting hit.

As she crashed through the last trees separating her from the militia defensive lines at the park entrance, she saw the advancing Union forces and her heart dropped.

The first two transports were sure to escape, but she and the militia would be unlikely to make it.


	6. Get Together, Let the Good Times Roll

Her reverie was shaken by a rocket from one of the spider tanks sailing over her head and demolishing the vertifan of the Razor that had been holding position over the park.

She fired a short burst across the road at one of the exposed Union troopers and took a small measure of satisfaction in downing him.  
"Can't… pull up!" The Razor pilot yelled, doing his best to guide the stricken craft to the ground in a controlled crash.

Miranda winced at the tortured sound of the craft crumpling into the soil. A couple of the NYPD officers ran to help the pilot out of the twisted wreckage, something that she was all too familiar with herself. The loss of the Razor was going to be an issue; It had been the evac for the third group; Now, they were stranded.

  
She fired another short burst at the advancing wave of troopers, missing by a fraction. She had, in truth, never excelled on the range, trusting instead on her intelligence, quick thinking and reactions to get the most from her Strider, knowing when to out-think, outmanoeuvre and out-fight her opponents. She'd always known she wouldn't be the best foot-soldier, and now, here she was, in hard cover, fighting for her life outside of a cockpit.  
"If only I still had Tempest…" She wondered inwardly.

  
A Hornbill emerged from the gloom, as if in answer to her wishes.  
"Tempest, Gale. Hope you didn't miss us?"

She grinned up at the hornbill as it unleashed a barrage of missiles across the road, flattening several of the tanks and scattering red-back carapaced soldiers across the tarmac. Razzle threw herself next to her against the brick wall, and took the opportunity to rest her submachine-gun on the wall to steady her aim.

  
"No time like the present, Leon. Glad to have you."  
Jodie and Leon's striders hit the ground with a ripple that she felt even from some distance, putting themselves on the corners of the militia lines and opening up on the advancing Union troops. Roberta nodded to her group of NYPD officers and they joined in, adding their pistol fire to the enfilade that poured into the Union soldiers who now scrambled for cover behind cars and buildings.

  
"Oh, watch out for Chase," Leon muttered over comms as he fired a series of missiles into a spider tank that was rushing towards his strider. "He wanted in on the action, and he's not going to go easy on them."  
She glanced up, expecting to see Julian's interceptor streaking out of the fog, but saw nothing.  
"Wait, where is he?" She asked, confused.  
"Wait for it," Jodie replied.

  
From the hornbill, a lithe shape descended, drawing an assault rifle and blasting away at the few Union troopers who had gotten too close.  
"Hope I didn't miss the party."

  
"Chase?!" She exclaimed, shocked at the gigantic mech that moved just liked a human.  
Just like Chase.

* * *

 

The humanoid drone swept past the militia's defensive line, throwing a punch that shattered one of the spider-tank's front sensor suites. The crippled drone began turning, firing wildly in all directions, until Chase climbed atop it and fired a few rounds that put it down for good. He gave a good-natured two finger salute to the militia line, before shoulder-barging another spider-tank against a building.

  
The tide had been turned, but this was still a fighting retreat, something that Miranda was reminded of by the hornbill returning to touch down in the park behind her. She tapped Razzle's shoulder.  
"Time to fold back. You get the last group on-board."  
Razzle sighed as the wall cracked from incoming rounds.  
"Are you kidding me? I JUST got here!"  
"GO!" She yelled back, not in the mood to argue during the encroaching fire-fight.

  
Razzle grumbled and rolled out of cover into a sprint towards the transport. "EVERYONE ON! We're getting out!"  
"We're folding back!" Miranda yelled around her to the remaining rear-guard. The militia and NYPD began running back into the trees, firing wildly behind them as they went, but even so, two of the militia caught bullets in the back and fell, twitching. She cursed, firing blindly as she picked up the one who was still moving, a brown-haired woman who was clutching her calf in pain.

She dragged her back into the treeline, firing as she went until her weapon jammed, so she threw it away and hauled the woman over her shoulders, finding an inner pool of strength she didn't know she had. Besides her, Roberta was still covering her with her pistol, but she waved her on. They didn't have time, they needed to just get out.  
"You be right behind me, Miranda."  
She nodded as Roberta ran the last short distance to the hornbill.

She had no intention of getting so close and being left behind again.  
The striders burst through the trees, firing backwards as they ran, trampling firs and oaks.  
"Think we've out-stayed our welcome, guys. Everyone get onboard!" Leon yelled, turning his strider to put a barrier between the advancing union and the surviving refugees.  
With a leap, Chase joined them, eyes narrowing as he looked down at Miranda still running with the militiawoman on her back.

  
"We got this. Time to go!"  
She nodded up at him.  
"Make sure you get out too."

  
She ran up the ramp of the hornbill, jumping the last few feet to clear it before it closed, and breathed hard, resting the militiawoman next to a few of her wounded fellows.

A few moments later, the hornbill was airborne, and the striders being pulled up into the hold, along with the humanoid robot, or Chase, or whatever it was. Through one of the vision slits, she saw New York falling into the distance, a Behemoth approaching from the gloom towards the park, and breathed her relief as a choked laugh.

  
"Hey." She turned to find Chase's mother, who pulled her in a hug, and over Roberta's shoulder she saw Razzle smiling from where she stood by the injured militiawoman.  
"We're out." Julian's mother sighed with relief. "Thank you."  
She cried, holding Roberta closer, the wave of relief finally starting to hit her.

  
A cough behind her broke their hug, and she turned to see Chase, in some sort of new body-suit, smiling at his mother and girlfriend.  
"Told you we'd do this for real sometime."

  
Miranda laughed through a sob, and threw herself into his arms. He folded them around her, and she couldn't help but finally let herself believe that she was safe.

* * *

 

Her hands tore at his bodysuit as soon as the door to his barracks bloc closed, her uniform already partially stripped off. Her breath was rushed, but she still smirked through the stream of kisses, Julian's strong hands grasping at the clasp of her bra, while gently pushing her towards his bed. Now that she was back, he wasn't going to miss a second, and it showed. He left a long trail of kisses down her neck, and Miranda gasped at his lips gently gripping her nipple, a steady fire building in her stomach, a held tension, a yearning need for him. He rolled onto his bed, and pulled her with him, Miranda giggling as she ended up underneath his well-toned body, running a hand along his face, her eyes locked on his.

  
She needed this, needed him.

  
She had for two weeks.

  
Two weeks when she ought to have been dead.

  
Miranda leant up to kiss him again, their lips parting as their tongues played around one another, his hand running through her scarlet bangs. She pulled her hand down to his groin and felt up and down his erection, the warmth of it against her hand a sensation that she savoured. With her other hand, she wrenched her slacks off, and guided his hand to her warmth, her breath catching as his fingers played around her lips. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out, despite the privacy windows his room had up, and opened her eyes to find his searching her's. That didn't stop her when he knelt down in the bed and began to do the same with her tongue, though, and she breathed his name with a sigh as his tongue ran along her clit, and worked its' way inside. It was almost too much, and she placed a hand on his forehead. She didn't want to finish without him.

  
Julian pulled himself up to her in the bed, his elbows on either side of her as he smiled down at her, his muscled hands running along the length of her body. She said nothing, just guided him in with a sharp intake of breath as she felt his girth pass through, taking a second to savour the feeling of Chase inside her, and let her breath return. He began to slowly rock back and forth, and as she felt his length slip up and down inside, she pulled her legs around his waist, trying to hold him. Miranda tossed her head upwards as the tension built, her hair splayed on the pillows, her breathing rough as she felt herself edging ever closer to release.

  
Her mouth opened wide in a voice-less moan, and she felt herself desperately clinging to him, pulling him in deeper as they came together, his breathing hard on her cheek. Shuddering, the two of them held each other close, letting the world steady around them slowly, anchored to one another in a moment of bliss.

He rolled to the side, and she lay on his arm, the two breathing hard from exertion, looking deep into one another's eyes, Julian running his hand over her burns.

She looked away, thinking about the fire, the terror that had run through her as the flames seemed never-abating, the unending pain in her cheek as she blistered.  
"Always considered the possibility of dying in the Vanguard. But never something like this." She considered, sadly.

  
Julian smiled at her.  
"You got another shot. We got another shot."

  
She felt tears brimming as she remembered the certainty that she was dead, how she'd been a dead woman clawing her way back to life through a hostile city.  
"Let's make the most of it."

  
Miranda kissed him, her hands wrapping around his back, drawing him close, needing his warmth close to her again.


End file.
